


measures of comfort

by sufferinginenochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: < I'm mean for using those two tags but they're true, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Coffee Shop Owner Dean Winchester, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Drabble, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Illnesses, M/M, Rain, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Supernatural100 | Supernatural Drabble Community, Terminal Illnesses, Trigger warnings:, also i know that canonically that ring is mary's ring. i know, but consider this:the drama, but instead of a note it's a gift, except he's co-owner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27490534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sufferinginenochian/pseuds/sufferinginenochian
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide and mentions of terminal illness. Castiel has just been diagnosed and doesn't want to go through the painful and lengthy (and expensive) treatments and recovery process, having witnessed it first-hand. He wants to end things on his own terms, but he's scared. So, he turns to his local friendlyand gorgeousco-owner of his favorite coffee shop for comfort.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	measures of comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Booped_rue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booped_rue/gifts).



It was raining.

Nothing more than a drizzle, but it bounced off his skin cold and the chill seeped through his clothes. Castiel stood on shaking legs, eyeing the bridge from a safe distance away. Never taking a step in either direction, he was rooted in place.

He was tired already. A bone-deep exhaustion swept through him and he ached in places he normally couldn’t even feel. It didn’t help that his heart was hammering away in his chest, making it even harder for him to breathe. He panted, bracing himself against the chilled metal of a light-post. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he shook, violently. He was scared. Hell, he was terrified. He needed to do it, he knew. But _could_ he?

_“You have a month left. Maybe less. I’m sorry.”_

The look the doctor had given him while talking him through the options, explaining different treatments. Castiel had seen what this illness could do, how draining and soul-crushing and expensive recovery was. If it even worked, which he also knew was unlikely. He wouldn’t go through that. 

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to regain the feeling in them, the skin there was littered with little purple and red bruises - as was the rest of him. It was cold, and he wanted to be warm.

He found himself around the corner from the quaint coffee shop he used to frequent. He had since found himself too weak and nauseous to visit, regardless of the good coffee and...satisfactory customer service. 

He pushed the glass door open, and it took such a small amount of strength, but it was enough to almost make his arms buckle from the exertion. He sighed as it swung shut behind him, and approached the vacant counter, tapping the bell that sat there twice. He noticed there wasn’t anyone else in the cafe, maybe because it was 10 am on a miserable Tuesday. Castiel hoped he was working today, but he steeled himself for disappointment just in case. 

There it was. 

Charlie emerged from the kitchen. Red hair combed back into something resembling a pony-tail.

“Cas! Long time no see, dude. What can I do ya for, the usge?” She beamed. Castiel offered her an upward tug of the mouth - he really couldn’t muster much more, and nodded.

“Yes, um...my usual, ple-actually...could I also have a slice of the cherry pie?” 

Charlie looked surprised, but recovered quickly and nodded.

“Sure thing!” She chirped and quickly waved his hands away when he pulled his wallet out.

“Oh, please; on the house! Go on and sit your butt down, I’ll get this over to ya in a jiff.” 

He nodded and took a seat at the opposite corner of the room, settling into the comfortable cushioned chair with a wince. It was like he could _feel_ his individual bones grinding together every time he shifted. It was agony, but it would all be over soon.

Someone approached him, and he looked up to thank her but when his eyes were met with green eyes instead of brown and bronzed, freckled cheeks rather than pale - it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Phew, making sure I get my steps in today, huh?” 

Castiel’s eyes widened and he just...stared. Dean wasn’t deterred by Castiel’s decidedly normal reaction. He set the coffee-mug and slice of pie down on the table.

“Alright; here we got your almond milk cappuccino, dark roast, extra foam...and a slice of my famous apple pie? Wow, living on the wild side today, huh?” Dean grinned, gesturing questioningly at the seat that sat at the opposite end of Castiel’s table. Cas nodded fervently and Dean slid himself across the table, elbows propped on the edge.

“Heya, Cas. I haven’t seen you in a while! Thought we lost ya to Starbucks.” He joked, sending a dazzling smile Castiel’s way. Cas smiled and ducked his head shyly, shaking his head.

“...Hello, Dean. No, never. I’ve just been...under the weather lately. I’m afraid I didn’t have enough in me until now, I suppose.” 

Dean smiled again, this time with less teeth and swagger. More genuine.

“I’m glad to hear you wouldn’t abandon us for those milkshake-peddling bastards. It’s not even real coffee!” 

Cas laughed, and it hurt a little, but it felt good. He hadn’t laughed in a while. He cupped his hands around his mug and reveled in the warmth that clung to the ceramic. He lifted it to his mouth and took a scalding sip, burning the tip of his tongue. He didn’t much mind, though, the coffee was delicious - as usual.

When he set the mug back down, Dean laughed and gestured at Cas’s face.

“You got a wicked foam-stache, there.” 

Castiel felt his face flush as he wiped at his upper lip while Dean cackled. 

Dean sat there, making small talk with him for the better part of an hour. Other customers came in, but Charlie handled them solo without so much as an annoyed glance in their direction. Castiel protested multiple times that Dean was being distracted from his job, but was quickly dismissed by an “Ahh, Charlie’s a strong, independent woman. If she needs help, she’ll holler.”

Dean watched Cas with rapt attention when he tried the apple pie. It was...heavenly. The filling was the perfect balance between soft with just a little bit of firmness, perfectly sweet and tangy, and the crust was light. Cas outright moaned around that bite of perfection, which had Dean squirming in his seat. 

Regrettably, Castiel felt nauseous after that first bite and offered the rest to Dean, who took it without hesitation and cleared the plate in ten seconds flat. 

When Cas finished his coffee, and the beginnings of the lunch-time crowd started to filter in, and their conversation was tapering off into mindless small talk; he called it quits. Thanked Dean for his company, and his delicious pie. 

They stood up, and Dean stayed there, standing less than four inches in front of him. Cas held up a finger in a polite request and dug through his billowy trenchcoat. From one of the inner pockets, he withdrew a small square of folded wrapping paper. He cupped the back of Dean’s hand in his palm and pressed the parcel into Dean’s hand, closing his fingers over it.

“I thought you should have this, don’t open it until I leave, please.” He said softly. 

Dean blinked at Cas, and then down at his closed hand. He was stunned, no customer had ever given him a gift. He was about to protest and try to give it back when a warm and solid hand landed on his left shoulder, and Dean leaned into the comforting touch that seemed to buzz in the non-existent space between them.

“Thank you, Dean. I’m not afraid anymore.”

Dean blinked, and Castiel was gone. All that remained was the tingling skin of his left shoulder and the weight that was nestled in his palm.

“Weird dude.” He chuckled breathlessly to no-one in particular. He opened his fist and carefully unwrapped the pale blue tissue paper, revealing a thick silver band, possibly a wedding ring. It was simple, yet elegant, with two grooves carved into the metal parallel to each other. 

He loved it, but it was too...too meaningful, too expensive for him to accept. He’d have to give it back the next time Castiel came in. He sighed and slid the ring onto his right ring finger - for safekeeping, he told himself.

He almost dropped the tray he held in his hand when his shoulder started throbbing.

\---

Castiel wasn’t afraid anymore. The pain that riddled his body was dulled, like a sound playing somewhere in the back of his mind. He could barely feel it, standing on that ledge, looking down at the rushing water and support beams that ran down the bridge. 

He breathed deep, letting the cool, crisp air fill him like a prayer. 

He stepped off, and for a moment, he was suspended. Hanging in mid-air, like he was flying. He looked off into the distance and smiled as the moment ended and his falling body cut through the air towards the rocky below.

When he closed his eyes, all he saw were peridot irises and freckles.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. This is so fucking sad. I know. I hate it too. This prompt was given to me by my friend Booped_rue and I hate it. But, this is what happened so I may as well post it. 
> 
> ALSO: I am not by any means a doctor. I didn't name drop a specific illness for this very reason and also because I wanted to handle this as tastefully as possible. The symptoms I wrote in are probably not accurate, so please take this with a grain of salt. Thank you for reading and I hope y'all enjoy <3


End file.
